The Forsaken Soldier
by TheShirtmaker
Summary: Having finally crossed the thin red line, Martin Walker has brushed with insanity, his actions in Dubai proving he's not only a traitor but a murderer. Can a certain obstinate, red headed commander help him to face his past demons and move past them? This work will be updated continuously, and support for this story is appreciated!


"Sir, please, put down the weapon and come with us!"

Captain Martin Walker had been sent to Dubai with the original goal of reconnaissance; the High Command had known that the major African city had been hit hard by a phenomenal sandstorm just a few weeks prior.

They also knew that Lieutenant Colonel John Konrad had commanded the U.S. Army 33rd Infantry Battalion, who had taken refuge in the city to aid in the evacuation, but that, upon his refusal of orders that he and his men leave, he had condemned himself, his men, and the citizens of Dubai to the desert.

The Damned 33rd Infantry.

After Walker had been inserted at the outskirts of the city with his squad, consisting of two fellow Delta soldiers by the names of Alphanso Adams and John Lugo. The moment they found the first dead soldiers of the 33rd, the recon had turned into rescue.

Only, as it had turned out, Walker and his squad weren't the rescuers.

The hell that had become Dubai had pushed Walker beyond the thin red line. The further he and his companions had traveled into the city, the more and more inadvertent suffering and loss they had caused. The massacre of innocent men, women, and children at what had appeared to be a fortified position when it was actually a refugee camp using the painful and lethal White Phosphorus, the slaughter of U.S. soldiers who had only been trying to help..

The eventual deaths of both Adams and Lugo.

The list went on, and all of it was on Walker's hands now.

The Damned 33rd had been protecting Dubai from _him_.

His sanity had begun decreasing rapidly as well. Throughout the duration of the mission long gone FUBAR, he had thought he had been talking to the Commanding officer of the 33rd, Konrad himself, blaming him for the deaths and crimes he had committed himself.

As it had turned out, Konrad had been long dead before Walker and his team had ever reached the city. There was no one to blame aside from himself. One misleading act after another led to the deaths of more innocents and more bodies in Walker's wake than the sandstorm had ever claimed.

And now, here he stood before a U.S. Marine contingent sent to investigate his fate. His clothes, once a standard Delta Force BDU, clean and crisp, were now in tatters. His face and body were bloody and blackened, his gait was staggering, and he had a glassy look in his eyes. The automatic AA-12 shotgun he held in his hand felt heavy, but he didn't let go.

He had literally gone through hell and back.

"Don't shoot, he's shell shocked! Sir, captain, I need you to listen to me. Just put down your weapon, and this will all be over, I promise."

Walker focused in on the lead soldier who had just spoken. He was extending his arm, edging ever closer. Behind him was a column of multiple Humvees, and what appeared to be around sixteen or so Marines, weapons readied but not quite up, alert but not hostile.

Yet.

As Walker surveyed the opposing U.S. troops, he felt something shift inside of him. These men would haul him away, and everything wouldn't be fine. He would be held accountable for his crimes, intentional or not, and would be dishonorably charged and promptly executed.

He wouldn't let that happen.

In his bleary and overworked mind, he saw himself going out in one final blaze of glory, all cares thrown aside. He had already murdered so many, and living longer to face those demons all over again at a tribunal, or some court wasn't an option for him.

The lead soldier looked back to his Marines, smiling assuredly. Then there was a shout. He turned back, looking at Walker, whose face was a mask.

But the automatic shotgun pointed at his head told no lies.

In a flash and a spray of gore, the commanding officer's head was violently removed.

"Kill him!" shouted another Marine, signaling a flurry of weapons fire as the unit collectively raised their weapons and fired, but Walker had already moved into cover behind a nearby fallen concrete pillar.

Priming a grenade, Walker lobbed the explosive where he had thought it would do maximum damage. Sure enough, one of the Humvees exploded, shrapnel having hit its fuel tank, and several soldiers cried out before being silenced.

Walker even unholstered his sidearm, a Glock with a decent sized ammunition count, and opened fire while leaning out of cover, clipping one soldier in the shoulder and silencing another completely. When his clip ran out, he simply tossed the gun away.

However, there were just too many soldiers, and there was too much fire coming from them now to do much more then reload and see what happened. Walker knew this, and since that had been his only remaining frag, he sat back, slumped against the pillar, pieces of concrete and sand being chipped away at by the ferocious fire the Marines were putting down.

Through this, Walker simply sat and stared at the ground in front of him, knowing the end was coming. Looking up after a few moments, he noticed a pane of shattered glass propped against a burned out car a good few yards away. It's reflection showed the roaring .50 caliber machine guns on the two Humvees facing him, and the Marines ever advancing.

It was when one soldier stepped out from the former commander's Humvee wielding a SMAW rocket launcher that Walker knew his time in Dubai was over.

As the rocket fired, time seemed to slow. Looking at the shattered pane of glass, Walker saw the rocket that was about to end his life streak through the air, headed directly towards him.

Once more leaning back against the rough pillar, Walker waited for the end to come, closing his eyes and waiting.

Then, there was white.

...

"You didn't actually think that would be it for you, now did you, Martin?"

Opening his eyes, the former Delta Operator found himself standing on top of Dubai's largest skyscraper once more, where he had found the late Commander Konrad, overlooking the burning city he had harmed so much. Looking down at himself, he discovered that he was wearing the tattered, bloody, and burned Marine fatigues he had originally worn coming into Dubai, a reminder of what he had once been.

"Oh no, you're not getting out of your troubles that easily."

Turning, Walker found himself staring at John Konrad standing beside him, with his grey hair neatly combed back and black army fatigues on, overlooking the city he had sought to protect.

"You're dead," Walker muttered, finding himself parched like he'd never been before. It actually hurt, like he could feel his throat tearing apart.

"Ah, yes, and so are you. Except, unlike me, you're getting a second chance," Konrad said somewhat sarcastically, turning to face Walker. "Which is much more than you deserve after what you've done to these people." At this, he gestured to the burning city sprawled below, in which thousands of innocent people had become entombed in due to Walker's actions.

"But I digress. This city's twisted you, captain. And after going through what's happened to both of us, I think it's safe to say that if there's a God then He's most definitely got one sick mind. But I'm telling you now that you're not done yet."

Konrad turned to face Walker, his jaw setting. "You've murdered my men, killed unarmed innocents, and you're sanity's been undeniably deteriorating since the day you reached this city."

Walker tried to speak, but felt his throat close up. He suddenly couldn't breathe very well.

Konrad, how words laced with venom, continued. "I'll be quite honest, captain. I don't think you deserve much of anything other than a spot in Hell. But my time with you is drawing to a close, and soon you'll be off to some happy new adventure, where you'll be given a new chance.

Konrad turned and grasped Walker's shoulder-and not gently, either. "Providence, has intervened, son," he practically spat out. "I recommend you start getting your ass in gear."

And with that he took Walker by his neck strap, dragging him to the edge of the tower- a drop of over 150 stories.

"Oh, and Walker, one last thing." Walker, finding himself unable to do so much more than just look at Konrad, simply listened.

"Look for Commander Shepard," Konrad finished, pausing before reaching within his fatigues and pulling out a Desert Eagle, the words 'Damned 33rd' engraved on the side. He roughly shoved the large handgun into Walker's previously empty side holster.

Before Walker could say anything, though, Konrad grasped him by the collar and, with jerk, threw him over the side of the tower.

As he fell, Walker had just enough time to look into the glass on the side of the tower he had just been thrown off of. Looking at it as he fell, he noticed faces recurring through the panes of tempered glass. Soldiers he'd killed, innocents he'd murdered, and many more.

Just before he hit the ground, he closed his eyes once more. Wanting it to be over, done with.

And then there was darkness.

**I've thought about doing this story before, and when I noticed that no Spec Ops: The Line stories had been done before, I just thought why not cross Mass Effect with it, throwing in Walker, the Forsaken Soldier, with Shepard and the gang? I think this'll make for an interesting story, and if you guys liked what you read or have any suggestions, let me know and thanks in advance! Support will be keeping this story going for as long as you guys want me to. I also (obviously) own neither franchise and they are both properties of their respective owners. Thanks again, and more to come soon!**


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